Someone to Hold
by Nic-Bar
Summary: A what if story. What if Bishop Germanius had a niece that always trailed with Arthur and his knights? She has known Arthur all her life but another knight is the one that catches her eye. Implied sexual innuendo CHPT 7 UP!
1. They don't know him

Disclaimer- I do not own any of these characters except Arelenne. All copy rights belong to Antoine Fuqua and the amazing cast of King Arthur R/R!

There were eight of them left now. Eight Sarmatian knights loyal to Arthur, Lucius Artorius Castus, their Roman leader, but they were embittered by their duty to Rome and longing for a home some of them barely remember. Oh they all talk of returning to Sarmatia, even Bors with a wife and eleven children who eagerly await his return to the fort after every battle. However, the truth is they do not know whether there is a home awaiting them. They had never heard whether their nomadic families had prospered in their absence or whether they were beset with tribulations and troubles. The unsaid is that maybe there is no one to return to, no one who would remember them and would welcome them back with open arms, no one to love them as they so desperately wanted to be loved. The reality was that admit it or not Briton had become home. Here in this land they had created a new family. They had spent years together nursing each other through battle wounds and illness, consoling each other when knights were slain or died and rejoiced in their victories and reveled in each others company.

Tristan was no different to the others though less forthcoming in presenting his thoughts on their situation and even more reticent about what he planned to do once he was free. In fact if anyone cared to notice he was less talkative than normal as the day of freedom loomed closer but it would take a very discerning eye to see that small change. Tristan had always been a little different. His tattoos identified him as belonging to a tribe of warriors that was further east than the rest of them so his ways were not always their ways but they respected his abilities and trusted his judgment for no matter where in Sarmatia he was from he was a Sarmatian knight and that was something to be proud of. To them Tristan was part of their family but his shyness was interpreted as aloofness. They didn't drag him to their company but they let him come and go at his own pace, sharing with him when he was there and shrugging off his absences as "well you know Tristan."

Unfortunately they didn't know Tristan. They didn't know how he craved their company. He didn't want their acceptance he already had that, he wanted more but he really wasn't sure what more was. They didn't understand that he longed to be comforted the way Arthur comforted Guenevere or to be held the way Gawain held Sarah. Yes these knights slept with women but that was more like rutting, there was nothing between them and the women except their clothes, but what they shared with each other now that was…well it was just more and all Tristan knew was he wanted that whatever that was but he feared he was always wanting something that he wasn't even sure really existed.

He didn't bed women like they did as a release to pent up anxieties after battle, in fact he had never bedded anyone, woman or man. Oh he knew how it is done, he'd heard the bragging, understood the basics (at least he hoped he did) but he wanted something deeper than a quick tumble in the stable after a drunken night in the tavern.

Sometimes he heard them at night as passion took them, sometimes he listened to the soft moans as the knight and their lovers coupled slowly and tenderly. Even Bors sought comfort and solace from his wife and despite his bravado they all knew how much she meant to him. Arelenne, on the other hand, had neither knight nor husband to comfort her. She didn't seem to need anyone or maybe she did and like everyone else Tristan had it all wrong. Maybe the girl needed someone to care for too. It's fine to fight by day but at night when you are war weary, bone tired and hurting sometimes it would be good to have someone there to tell you its all right that you can close your eyes and that they would hold you until the dawn broke.

Tristan wanted what the others shared, all except Arelenne she was like Tristan, alone. Tristan wanted to soar on feelings he can't even put a name to…he wanted to know what it was like to be touched, to surrender every fiber of his being to another, to simply feel and not think. He wanted to trust someone enough to let go and know that they would catch him, they would never let him fall that when he went over the edge they were with him and when it was over they would hold him tenderly, kiss him passionately and whisper words meant for his ears only.

Maybe this something he so desired was just a dream like having a family that missed him back in Sarmatia. He always believed that he would findsomeone or someone would find him and they would understand him as no one had ever understood him. Only now after all these years as their freedom was just a handshake away Tristan felt he had no one to go home to, the knights were his family and suddenly his family was going in different directions and Tristan felt more alone than ever before.

So here they were on this the penultimate day riding to meet the man who would grant them their freedom. For all of them, their memories of home were like those an orphaned child cherishes, a memory long since swept away by the harsh tide of time. Sarmatia was an ideal, a memory that Rome could neither conquer nor take away and they had earned their right to return to the home of their childhood...the question was would any of them actually leave?


	2. Home?

To anti-social17: Thanx and I hope to complate the whole story! 

As they rode they talked of the days ahead. What they might do, where they would go, when they would leave. As usual Arthur listened to the chatter with good humor. Ah yes he had heard it all before. Young Galahad's assurance that he was returning home, Bors on again off again commitment to his woman and children, Gawain's desire to wed a Sarmatian girl and sire Sarmatian babies and Lancelot's constant reminder to them all that he would remain their friend by protecting their families if they were away. It was old, well worn banter and it comforted them like a heavy fur on a winter's night.

Now as they crested the small rise looking over the valley below, they saw in the distance the approach of the Bishop's contingent and briefly they sat and contemplated the importance of this moment. Arelenne looked to Tristan who as usual was on the far right of the group always ready to dash away scouting ahead if Arthur so commanded. His gaze seemed to look beyond the Bishop's carriage to something far more elusive than the paper scroll the Bishop carried granting his release. Lately Arelenne had become concerned that Tristan seemed more withdrawn than usual. Not that Tristan was one you could call lively but it was obvious to Arelenne that the future troubled the man, not from what he said but from what he didn't say. He never shared his thoughts, never hinted to the path he may take once released. He seemed divided in his heart, unwilling to stay in on the isle but yet unable break the hidden ties that now bound him to this land. There was little Arelenne could do to ease the uncertainty Tristan must have felt but he was determined to be there for Tristan even if Tristan didn't notice.

Arelenne was a warrior not a healer but somehow through the years she had become the one they turned to when wounded or troubled, well most of them turned to, though Tristan had rarely sought her assistance. Indeed Arelenne did seem to understand better than most how to set a broken bone or reduce a fever. As the years progressed she became their emotional rock too, the one to advise and guide. Her quiet confidence and imposing stature gave her an air of credibility that seemed lacking in many of the others. If the girl said it was all right then it must be they concluded, because she just seemed to understand these matters. Some thought her gifted, even magical, but the reality was that she simply remembered the ways of her mother. She recalls watching her care for their people, asking her why she did the things she did. She remembers her patience as she explained how the potions and medicines were made and she encouraged her to help her treat the sick and wounded.

She was quite the healer she thought sadly, wondering if she was still alive after all these years. Some things,she concluded, you never forget and others you never knew you knew until you had to use them.So while the others continued their chattering, Tristan stared at the distant carriage and Arelenne's thoughts again turned to Tristan.

There was something about the silent scout that intrigued her. The man was a brutal warrior and a stoic ally. He was always there to watch your back in a fight and defend you in time of need. Yet for all his battle hardness he was a gentle soul. Tristan was one with the land. He seemed to walk its ground and never leave a footfall. He was at home in the forest and the field and seemed to never disturb the air as he glided across the land. His two closest companions were his horse and the falcon. He constantly spoke in reverent tones to the horse but then Sarmatian's do believe that their horses carry the spirit of fallen warriors who will guide and protect them.

So really it was probably wise to be kind to your steed Arelenne decided especially if you wanted a safe ride.

The falcon though she was different. A creature of the wild and yet she would contentedly fly to Tristan's outstretched hand when he whistled. He whispered words to her that only she seemed to understand and he fed her treats not to lure her to his side but to reward her for her vigilant assistance. She trusted him and he, her, and Arelenne could see that unique bond.

By all thegods Tristan seemed to have everything that he needed, he was focused and should have been content and yet Arelenne couldn't help but feel that Tristan wanted something else, something he would never ask for. It wasn't like Tristan needed someone to take care of him but Arelenne was sure from the way Tristan often stared at their companions that he wished someone wanted him the way he could see they wanted each other. It constantly amused her that Tristan seemed oblivious to the fact that Arelenne too was alone, not that this needed to be the reason they seek comfort and solace from each other.

Indeed it had crossed Arelenne's mind that the only time that Tristan's guard is down is when he becomes preoccupied watching his friends' as they furtively touch and caress their lovers. Maybe that's why he never noticed Arelenne watching him and even more so that Arelenne often stayed close to him, talking to him even though he didn't answer. That's why sometimes Arelenne would place an arm around Tristan's shoulders or grasp his arm in knighthood or slap him on the back in good natured fun…simple gestures to remind Tristan that he was appreciated and respected, that he was important to them, to her. Arelenne hoped, she knew, actions speak loudly and such gestures said more than words ever could.

All too often in these troubled times such comfort and support is a rare gift to give to dear friends thought Arelenne, what man didn't need to feel that his place in the world was valued.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Bors announcing that their freedom draws closer as the Bishop's contingent enters the valley below.

Arelenne looked at Tristan and stated, "Tomorrow we are free men."

Tristan didn't turn to face her but shrugged his acknowledgment of the fact.

"Where will you go Tristan?" she asked.

"Home" was the simple reply.

A response yes but not an answer. Where is your home Tristan? she pondered where does your heart lie?

Arelenne continued, "when it is time to leave maybe we could ride together, it is a long and lonely way my friend."

For the first time Tristan turned to Arelenne and...

...they were interrupted by distant shouts and screams as raiding Woads descended upon the lightly guarded contingent.

"Ride" ordered Arthur.


	3. I…want to kiss you again

This chapter gets a little (cough) intense so those who are revolted by a little sexuality shouldn't read. Thanx for all's support! 

Arthur and his men rallied to the Bishop's aid as the contingent was set upon by hordes of blue painted Woads. Woads. Untamed Britons, the wild men and women of this isolated island. The Romans had long since accepted that the Woads were barbarians and as such were inferior in the eyes of the mighty Roman Empire. The very name was an insult and identified not a people but a weed that grew prolifically on the isle, and which the warriors harvested to obtain blue dye to paint their bodies before battle. Such an aggressive, invasive plant needed to be controlled or at least contained. Likewise these Woads, who repeatedly interrupted life in the region by attacking soldiers and civilians, were dealt swift and brutal justice by the Romans.

Emperor Hadrian had tried to restrain them by organizing the construction of the wall some three hundred years earlier. Indeed the wall did stabilize the northern frontier, as a result communities south of the wall flourished but north of it, while limited trade agreements existed; it was still a wild frontier that had occupied Roman resources for centuries. This attack, however, was significant, not because the Woads attacked but because these Woads were south of the wall.

With Arthur in the lead, the knights raced to engage the insurgents. Tristan, on the far right of the group as they galloped towards the melee, saw the battlefield before him; his fellow knights, some dismounted, others still on their horses, hacking and slashing as they fought one attacker after another. As he neared the edge of the battle, Tristan spotted Lancelot, twin blades swinging wildly, as he stumbled backwards to the ground and was set upon by a Woad raider with a bloodied blade raised ready to plunge it into the helpless knight. Without concern or care Tristan released the reins, turned to his left, raised his bow and fired a single arrow at the attacking Woad. It found its mark and the Woad fell to the ground mortally wounded.

Unfortunately for Tristan he was sitting astride his steed, upper body twisted to the side and moving at full speed. He had no reins in hand and he was focused on the safety of his friend. As a result he was not aware of where his steed, guided by the spirits of fallen Sarmatian warriors so they say, was taking him. He and the speeding mount failed to notice the small jagged rocks, hidden by the grass that had been thrown onto the field by the road makers who had recently re ploughed the nearby track. Just as Lancelot rose from the ground to continue the fight, Tristan felt his horse stumble as it tried to gain a footing on the rocky section of field. In that brief moment before he too fell, Tristan felt time slow down and he realized, albeit too late, that he should have been holding on to the horse and not the bow, as bows are more easily repaired than knights. His last thought as he plunged headlong to the ground was that he hoped someone would notice his now precarious situation and protect him until he could gather his wits and his weapons.

Nearby Arelenne watched in horror as the scene unfolded before her eyes. The inevitability of the fall was all too evident to Arelenne, particularly as she had already seen Lancelot lose his footing on the rocky ground. She was too far away to help in Lancelot's situation and was relieved to see Tristan power through the throng and slay Lancelot's attacker. However, the sheer speed that Tristan's horse now traveled at and the fact that Tristan wasn't holding on to the reins meant disaster was but a stride away. As the horse sped in Arelenne's direction, it stumbled on the obscured rocks causing its unsecured rider to fall to the unforgiving ground.

Without purchase, Tristan fell heavily on his left side, hitting his head hard on the rocks as he rolled uncontrollably over them before coming to rest on his back. There winded, dazed and bleeding, his eyes wide open staring but not seeing the crystal blue sky overhead, Tristan lay, too stunned to move, too sore to get up and too confused to comprehend that lying on the ground in the middle of a battle was extremely unwise.

The sun shone far too bright for his eyes and his world began to spin. Distantly he was aware of the din of battle but he simply couldn't concentrate to understand that he needed to protect himself. Instead he merely laid there squinting against the sun's glare and idly wondering where his falcon was.

Where is she? He thought she'll come, she always comes to me…

He began to raise an unsteady arm for her to perch upon. What he failed to remember in his confused state was that she would only come when summoned by his whistle and whistling was a little beyond his capabilities at the moment. Unfortunately his movement summoned other less savory attention. Tristan's desperate attempt to lift his arm was a signal to the nearby Woads that this knight was not dead.

Suddenly his outstretched arm was wrenched sharply and he was dragged to his feet and steadied by a solid arm about his waist. The earth tilted but his protector kept him from falling over. Slowly he regained some of his bearings and looked about dazedly. He saw the blue decorated faces moving towards him and then he heard a distant voice, familiar yet detached, it seemed to be calling his name.

"Tristan." He heard the echo of the name and tried to focus on where the sound was coming from.

"Tristan." Arelenne shouted, as she supported the knight with one arm while wielding her long blade in the other defending them both from the charging Woads.

"Tristan" she screamed again more desperately. This time she seemed to get the other man's attention, as Tristan turned to the sound of the voice and stared at the blonde girl supporting him with unfocused eyes and a gentle smile.

Arelenne raised one startled eyebrow at her bewildered friend and promptly propelled them both towards the relative safety of one of the wagons. There she propped Tristan against the side of the wagon all the while talking to him and patting Tristan's face trying to get him to concentrate.

"Tristan where's your sword?" she asked "get your sword now."

The persistent voice seemed to break through the fog but while Tristan understood what Arelenne said he simply couldn't think straight enough to actually unsheathe his blade. The sheer effort involved in trying do what was asked made him dizzy and his knees buckled. He would have fallen once more had not Arelenne caught him and braced him back against the wagon with a pale, long fingered hand on Tristan's breastplate.

"I've got you" she stated evenly "It's alright, I've got you."

Tristan gazed at the hand on his chest and slowly brought his own up to hold it. His thumb moved lazily over the back of Arelenne's hand as he tried to comprehend what Arelenne had said.

"…I've got you" he heard the words again and vaguely understood that he was safe because Arelenne held him.

Arelenne, groaned in part because what Tristan was doing felt good and partly because she knew that while the battle was waning they could ill afford to be preoccupied when there were still Woads about. Arelenne was well aware that Tristan was injured but she hoped that he was still capable of fighting if they were attacked. With some regret she removed her hand from under Tristan's and grabbed Tristan's sword from its scabbard. She then thrust the weapon into her fellow knight's hand demanding that Tristan stand fast and fight if needed. Plunging back into the struggle, Arelenne kept one blue eye on her opponents and the other on a curiously serene knight who stood with his back to the wagon, weapon ready and eyes glazed.

As the last surviving Woads retreated to the safety of the forest, Arelenne lowered her blade. She immediately returned to Tristan, removed the sword from his grasp and sheathed it once more. Now was neither the time nor place to ascertain the extent of Tristan's less than obvious injuries. He was undoubtedly injured but not gravely, so Arelenne was satisfied if she told Tristan to stay where he was then Tristan would not wander away. The last thing she needed was to have to locate a stunned and lost Sarmatian knight one day before they were freed.

"Tristan I need to check on the others. Stay here" she commanded.

Without waiting for a response Arelenne headed off to ensure the others had survived the brief battle unscathed. She chanced upon Gawain and Bors checking the Bishop's carriage.

"This can't be good" she heard Gawain grumble.

A look inside the carriage revealed a cleric, dead from an arrow to the heart. This did not bode well for their future she thought as she continued on her way checking on the rest of the men. In the distance she saw Galahad, somewhat wearily, wandering around the battlefield, retrieving spent arrows. Arelenne's attention was diverted from the young knight as she the heard the seething tone of Arthur's voice as he interrogated a Woad prisoner demanding an explanation for the attack and why Merlin had sent them over the wall. Lancelot stood nearby, face troubled as he watched his commander and friend. Arelenne, like Lancelot, knew Arthur normally wouldn't kill an unarmed man but at the moment Arthur was incensed.

Maybe this attack was one too many, thought Arelenne.

Indeed the Bishop's demise would impinge not only on the imminent release of the Knights from Roman service but also on Arthur's return to Rome. As Arelenne watched, Arthur finally reined in his anger and released the prisoner, who fled to the cover of the woods before Arthur or his knights changed their minds about his life.

Content that all the knights had survived, Arelenne then searched the area where Tristan had fallen looking for the man's bow. He found it undamaged and surmised that Tristan must have let it drop rather than have it break when he fell. She then turned her attention to retrieving their mounts. A brief scan of the area revealed their horses grazing contentedly on grasses not far from the battlefield. She whistled and a large black and white Clydesdale stallion trotted up to her.

"Eugepae, Xavier." She whispered to the large stallion who nuzzled her neck.

As she led the horses back towards the wagon where she had left Tristan, she passed the surviving legionnaires of the Bishop's contingent and observed Arthur greeting their commander. Arelenne was surprised to discover that the officious officer was actually Bishop Germanius, the very man they had thought had died in the carriage. Extremely relieved and impressed by the Roman's ingenuity, especially for a cleric, Arelenne once more felt that the future was bright if this man was canny enough to consider an attack this side of the great Hadrian's Wall.

She continued on her way to Tristan and as she approached the wagon she found the man still standing there, a look of childlike innocence about him as he gently held his hands to his chest and absentmindedly played with his fingers. Arelenne couldn't help but smile at her friend who was just not himself after that fall, but Arelenne admitted she liked it that Tristan needed her at the moment, as Tristan so rarely allows anyone close enough to help him or so it seems.

Well thought Arelenne, not this time Tristan. This time you get my help regardless of what you say or do.

Tristan slowly turned his head and saw Arelenne leading their horses and carrying Tristan's bow. He took in the scene before him but the nuances of the moment were lost to him; his head ached, it hurt to breathe too deeply, his stomach was rolling and he was bone weary. He failed to notice the look of concern that passed Arelenne's face as she saw the pale and preoccupied scout.

"Tristan what's wrong?" she asked, concern lacing her angelic voice.

"I fell," was the simple reply.

"Yes," responded Arelenne "but I found you."

"Come on," she prompted "on your horse now."

With the obedience of a child Tristan moved to the animal. He tried to climb into the saddle but his chest hurt too much. Arelenne heard the sharp intake of breath and watched with concern as the scout clutched his chest and doubled over in pain. Arelenne felt that Tristan had mostly likely cracked a few ribs when he fell but it was unlikely the man could actually articulate what he was feeling in his confused state.

"Tristan what's wrong?"

Unfortunately it was a poor choice of words by Arelenne, for even in pain the scout locked on to the one thing he knew for certain and faintly replied…

"I fell."

"I know," sighed Arelenne "but I helped you."

A little more forcefully this time she asked, "What is wrong with your chest?"

"Hurts" was the response.

Obviously! thought Arelenne.

Arelenne had earlier determined that Tristan needed some treatment for his injuries but in the light of these rather disconnected simple conservations, the sooner they returned to the fort the better. Arelenne gently helped Tristan to straighten and with her hands holding Tristan's upper arms she urged the man to listen to her. She explained they needed to get back to the fort and to do that Tristan must get on the horse. So she instructed him to hold on to the mane tightly and put his left foot into Arelenne's cupped hands and as he was being hoisted up to swing his right leg over the horse. Tristan obeyed and finally with much staining by Arelenne and even more wincing and groaning by Tristan, the task was achieved. For its part, the steed stood steady and seemed to understand that while its usually alert rider was in the saddle, his mind was in the stars.

Once astride his horse Tristan relaxed a little although he was obviously in pain. He didn't speak unless spoken to, but at least he seemed focused on Arelenne and followed her faithfully as they rode to rejoin their friends who were now mounted and waiting to escort the Bishop to the fort. The Bishop looked up and saw his neice approaching, he smiled at her but she didn't return it. She didn't like Germanus much, to religious.

Bors greeted them heartily and then noted with some concern the scout's pallor.

"Tristan, what's wrong" he asked, in his booming voice.

Arelenne groaned as she knew that this question would not actually explain fully to Bors what was wrong.

Tristan, nonetheless, feeling he didn't have to think too hard to answer this question turned towards the bulky knight and proudly announced with a toothy grin, "I fell."

Bors' eyebrows shot up. He rarely encountered people who seemed happy to have falls. He looked past Tristan to Arelenne hoping the girl would enlighten him. Arelenne merely shrugged and said "He hit his head."

"Oh" mouthed Bors.

It all made sense now, "I see" Bors chuckled, "a case of the lantern is lit but nobody is home eh."

Arelenne smiled but the whole conversation washed over Tristan who was still trying to concentrate on staying upright in the saddle while riding a horse, not an easy feat considering his circumstances. However, as his mind was still cloudy and he wasn't sure just what those circumstances were.

Around him the knights chattered and teased each other. They discussed how they might receive their papers, what they would do tonight in celebration and whether Bors should name his children or simply continue to number them.

Tristan didn't really hear the discussions and instead stretched out his right arm, turned his face to the sky and whistled. From aloft, swooped a majestic falcon that glided gracefully to perch on her companion's outstretched arm. Arelenne watched the pair intently. She was amazed that Tristan had the strength to whistle at all and was fascinated by the knight's obvious love for the creature. She noticed how relieved Tristan seemed to be that she had eventually come to him and she saw the knight tenderly nuzzling her head in gratitude. However, Arelenne was not happy when realized that Tristan wasn't talking to the bird, something he usually did.

Without a doubt, Arelenne determined Tristan was going to get a full going over when they returned to the fort.

Arelenne smiled to herself thinking of what a rare opportunity she had to really be with Tristan. Unfortunate, yes, that her friend was injured but this might be the opening she needed to at least finish their conversation from before the battle about returning home together. She really wanted to let Tristan know how she felt about him, that she enjoyed being around him and that she cared about him.

Yes this was quite the opportunity. She mused.

Arelenne rode along happily thinking of the future, chatting with her friends and frequently glancing to Tristan to ensure the man was still upright and conscious. As they neared the fort, Galahad looked to Tristan and realized that their scout had been unusually quiet during the ride. He also noted the knight looked decidedly ill.

"Tristan" he asked sincerely "what's wrong?"

Both Arelenne and Bors rolled there eyes as they knew what was coming…

Tristan turned to face Galahad and with pride in his achievement he declared solemnly "I fell."

Somewhat surprised by the man's response Galahad opened his mouth to ask another question but before he could even speak, Arelenne turned to Tristan and said "Yes, but I caught you."

Tristan looked at the pretting young lady and seemed to mull over what Arelenne had just said and finally, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, nodded his agreement.

They were greeted in the courtyard by Jols, the knights' senior attendant, and his assistants.

"Welcome back, Arthur, Lancelot," he said as he took hold of their horses' bridles and the knights dismounted.

Arthur and Lancelot acknowledged him amiably, pleased to see their friend and comrade again. As the knights dismounted, they jovially greeted all of their loyal attendants. Tristan was the one exception; he remained silent as he released his falcon, and Arelenne carefully helped him down from the horse. Jols looked on with interest at the mysterious knight, who lingered in the courtyard. It seemed to the squire that the world passed before Tristan's eyes. Jols was about to ask what happened to the knight but Bors headed off the question.

"Woads attacked the Bishop and we stopped to help," he stated. Nodding towards Tristan, he added, "He fell off the horse, hit his head, probably broke a rib or two. Stubborn scout, anyone else wouldn't have been capable of standing, let alone riding a horse back to the fort, bird in tow."

Further conservation was interrupted as Arthur welcomed the Bishop to the fort. After the appropriate formalities were dispensed, the Bishop retired to quarters, promising to discuss the knights' release later in the evening.

Once the Bishop departed the courtyard the knights were free to meet family and friends. Bors' wife, Vanora, and their eleven children eagerly awaited the knight's attention.

"Where've you been? I've been waiting for you!" demanded Vanora.

"Oh, my little fire...such passion, Bors teased as he grabbed her and kissed her passionately. She swatted at him playfully but he backed up, hands in the air in mock defense, laughing raucously. Turning to the many faces pressed against the iron fence nearby, he called to his favourite son.

"Where's my Gilly?" The small boy, also known as number three, rushed out from the throng and into his father's embrace.

"Gilly. You been fighting?"

"Yes," replied the child.

"You been winning?"

"Yes." The boy proudly answered.

Bors ruffled the boy's hair fondly and then summoned the rest of his family.

"Come on, all my little bastards!" The courtyard erupted in a tumultuous yell as the rest of Bors' children ran to their father.

Bors tried to kiss Vanora again but she pushed him away, saying, "Go and clean up, you stink."

Bors grumbled at her complaint but, as was the Roman custom, they bathed daily when at the fort. He and his fellow knights began to make their way towards the bathhouse to clean off the dirt and blood from their earlier encounter. Arelenne looked at Tristan, who remained in the courtyard.

"I need to check your injuries. Go to the baths with the others and I will be there shortly with fresh clothes and balms," she said.

Tristan heard what Arelenne had said, however movement was simply not on his agenda at that moment. The noise in the courtyard echoed in Tristan's head. The sun shone too bright and his head ached fiercely, but the worst of all was the waves of nausea that rolled through his belly, and he found himself taking huge gasps of air to settle the unpleasant feeling. He was too terrified to move lest he bring up everything he had eaten in the last week. Unfortunately, his choice to remain rooted to the spot was usurped by a big beefy hand that grabbed him by the arm and gently yet purposefully propelled him towards the bathhouse.

"Come on number twelve," Bors declared, "time to clean you up."

Arelenne left her private quarters a little later, clean blonde hair glimmering and the remedies to ease Tristan's pain in tow. On her arrival in the disrobing room she found Tristan was missing. His armor was laid out neatly on a wooden bench but there were no discarded clothes or any other sign that the knight was actually in the bathhouse.

"Where's our scout?" asked Arelenne as she entered the cleansing room looking for the injured knight.

"Outside praying to the gods," Lancelot remarked, "Bors is with him."

"Oh," Arelenne sighed, realizing it was going to be a long night, as she headed out to find the pair. She found them near the back wall, Tristan on his hands and knees vomiting uncontrollably, with Bors next to him talking words of comfort and rubbing his back. It was certainly a different perspective of both men; Tristan, the independent solitary scout, now vulnerable and Bors, the loud and imposing warrior now the caretaker.

Bors looked up at Arelenne's approach.

"We didn't even make it to the door," Bors stated indicating the prone knight, "Gawain and Galahad managed to get his armour off and took it inside."

"I saw," replied Arelenne.

Tristan had stopped heaving but was too worn out to try and stand up.

"Let's get you inside out of this sun, eh," Bors said, indicating to Arelenne to help him get the now exhausted Tristan on his feet. They each took an arm, placed it around their shoulders and then, careful of his damaged ribs, put their arms around Tristan's waist and hoisted the scout to his unsteady feet before half carrying, half dragging the man to the dimly lit baths.

Once inside they rested Tristan on a bench leaning him back against the cool marble wall. Now in the subdued light of the bathhouse, Tristan opened his eyes and silently watched as Bors stripped off his own armour and Arelenne ,most of her clothes except a short, low-cut, thin undershirt and her tight riding pants before proceeding to undress him. He wasn't concerned by their nakedness; after all he had known them for over half his life, they had no secrets. But his helplessness troubled him as once more he was lifted to his feet by his companions and assisted to the bathing area to be washed and tended to.

I suppose once in a while a man can let someone else take control Tristan reasoned as his friends gently lowered him to the marble benches in the steamy room.

Arelenne retrieved their bath oil and shaving kit from the other room and kneeling between Tristan's legs began to apply the oil to the man's body.

"Need help?" asked Bors quietly.

"No, we'll manage. You go get cleaned up and join your family," replied Arelenne as ahe poured the oil onto his hands and then applied it to Tristan's chest; gently carding her elegant fingers through the triangle of dark hair that spread across the man's upper chest, before it tapered to a point at the base of his throat.

Arelenne picked up Tristan's small dagger and with long steady strokes she moved the instrument almost lovingly over the man's body, first scraping the blunt blade over the skin, then flicking excess oil off the blade, and then repeating the process. He moved the blade down his long legs, along his arms, across his shoulders, down his chest and she was especially careful as she moved the blade across the man's now obviously bruised and battered ribs.

For his part Tristan merely sat there, dimly aware of the other knights but only half listening to their hushed conversations. He closed his eyes again and let his mind drift, as Arelenne continued to tend to his damaged body. Tristan was too tired to concentrate on anything in particular, but somewhere in the back of his mind was the notion that Arelenne always managed to make him feel safe and, dare he admit it, cherished, but he had neither the energy nor the inclination to reveal such private thoughts at the moment.

The other knights finished washing and went to the plunge pool in an adjacent room, but Tristan and Arelenne remained where they were. It was slow going cleaning someone who was not able to participate in the process. Indeed, while they had often tended to each others needs in time of illness and injury, this situation was new to both of them. It was the most intimate moment the men had ever shared with their lovers and Arelenne watched keenly to see if the necessary intimacy bothered the injured man; but other than an occasional slight hitch in breath, Tristan did not react nor even open his eyes. Indeed Arelenne thought her friend had actually fallen asleep.

Probably for the best she reasoned, considering Tristan's injuries.

Tristan had drifted into a light sleep, soothed by the gentle touch. In his reverie he felt the familiar flutter in his belly as his lips were touched by another pair, softer and silker than his own.

"Arel," he moaned, barely a whisper but audible all the same.

"Tristan," replied the sultry voice of his phantom lover. Yes, this was a very good dream.

"Tristan, wake up," commanded the strong and very real voice of Arelenne, wrenching Tristan painfully back to reality.

Suddenly he was aware of another hand on his wrist stilling all movement. He opened his eyes in frustration and then in shock and not a little panic as he discovered his dream was in fact reality and he stared at the unflustered face of his friend.

"I…Arelenne I…" he stammered struggling to control his laboured breathing while desperately trying to put to words what had happened.

He needed to say something but he felt that his actions had bared his soul, the very thing he never intended to do. How could he explain what had just happened? They had never shared more than a friendly slap on the back, and yet, in the space of a day, he had gone from trusted friend to a needy, helpless loner.

Arelenne had removed her lips from Tristan but still held her friend's hand, keen to show him that she was not concerned by what had occurred.

Not in the least if the truth was known, thought Arelenne, as she looked at her distraught friend, in silent understanding.

"It's all right Tristan," he said soothingly. "You're injured and exhausted and I was cleaning you, you simply confused the feeling that's all. You don't have to explain, it's an honest mistake on my part, no harm done my friend"

Tristan looked in wonder and admiration at Arelenne's attempt to ease his dented dignity, but his heart was pounding and his mind was reeling. Fatigue and pain were warring with his need to explain. In the end he took a steadying breath, squeezed Arelenne's hand, and said the only thing that he honestly understood at the moment.

"I liked it, I…want to kiss you again," he admitted hesitantly.

Here he was, Tristan thought, injured, sore, bone weary and sitting in a public place stark naked trying to explain to his not equally naked friend that having unintentionally played his hand literally, he was now trying to say, in as few as words as possible, that he cared for her. Somewhere in all the years they had worked and fought together Arelenne had become more than a friend. Tristan never intended to admit that to anyone, least of all Arelenne, but that didn't mean he intended to give up the fantasy of being touched by the woman, being wanted and needed by her. He was a warrior not a lover, but he was also a man and to that end sometimes he craved comfort and wished he had someone to share his life with. It was his dream; the reality was harsher. Up until now his solitary warrior lifestyle simply didn't have room in it for another. However, was not their way of life on the brink of change?

Arelenne looked startled as she digested the implications of Tristan's revelation.

"You liked it?" she asked incredulously.

Tristan nodded his agreement.


	4. You were never going to tell me,were you

Arelenne was not unpleased by Tristan's revelation, but she was surprised at the extent of the man's feelings. Since Tristan obviously had his eye on her, she was unsure why the man had never sought her out before, for physical or emotional comfort especially when their other comrades had lovers and Tristan and Arelenne were essentially alone. Maybe Tristan didn't know how to ask for what he wanted, indeed Arelenne had never seen him with anyone, nor had he spoken of bed mates. However, Arelenne had never sought out Tristan either. Perhaps they were both to blame, each assuming the other wouldn't be interested. Well, the time for dancing around each other was over; after all, wasn't that why she had broached the subject of riding home together? Wasn't it really a way for her to ease into something more than friendship with this man? Now on the eve of their departure, Arelenne knew she was not prepared to let Tristan just disappear from her life, but the sudden change in her life from wanting something more to having it handed to her was a little unnerving.

"You were never going to tell me, were you"

Tristan shrugged and looked away saying "Didn't feel like breaking our friendship if you weren't interested and I didn't want to be alone, thought it was easier to be friends than be ignored."

"I do care for you Tristan, you know that don't you" asked Arelenne"Through the years you've become very important to me and now that we are almost free I knew you would return to your people and they are a long way from my home. I feared I would never see you again and that saddened me deeply. This morning I suggested we ride home together because I didn't want us to be apart just yet and I thought that maybe then I would have some time to tell you how I felt. If you weren't interested then we could have simply gone our separate ways, but if you were interested, well, we could have worked something out."

Tristan stared at her, eyes full of wonder, belly full of flutters and heart relieved that, for the present at least, he could let go and there was truly someone there to catch him.

"Oh" was all Tristan could say.

Arelenne raised an eyebrow at her friend and smiled.

"Enough of this now, we have both revealed a great deal this day, let us turn to the present as I think the future will unfold quite nicely by itself" she stated confidently. "Come now, my friend, you are injured and you need to finish washing, will you let me tend you"

"I choose no other" was the heartfelt reply.

Arelenne sat and watched Tristan sleep and pondered how suddenly her life had changed. Indeed, her life had taken a most unexpected but not unpleasant turn. Up unto this morning, the only thing that had occupied her thoughts was her impending discharge from Roman service. Now, half a day later, having fought another battle and protected her injured friend, she discovered she had gained a potential lover. Of course, they had to work on that but there was time, now that they would soon be free to return to Sarmatia.

A few hours earlier Arelenne had helped Tristan back to his quarters after their bath. She had sat Tristan on his bed and in the soft glow of candlelight, she tended to her friend's injuries. She applied henbane leaves to the injured ribs and securing them with strips of cloth wound around Tristan's bruised chest. She had then laid the knight on his bed and carefully rubbed a mixture of henbane sap and vinegar onto Tristan's brow. The mixture would ease Tristan's headache and also help him sleep. Soon enough Tristan drifted into a healing repose and Arelenne sat next to him, holding his hand and quietly telling him of her hopes for their future.

Arelenne smiled as she gently brushed errant wisps of hair from Tristan's brow. How many times in the past had she done this? Indeed, here she was less than a day from freedom and she was still looking after Tristan. Not that she minded, of course, after all she had been looking after Tristan since the day they met. She thought back to the first time she had seen the man. Oh he wasn't a man then. He was a mere child of ten. So young, one of the youngest the Romans took that season…

The Romans swept through Sarmatian lands every five years or so, gathering all the boys from ten to fifteen. Some Sarmatian tribes protested but resistance was always brutally suppressed and the boys forcibly removed from their rebellious settlement. More often than not, as punishment for resisting, the settlement was torched, the women raped and the men slaughtered. Indeed, many a boy, conscripted into service, saw his family decimated and his home destroyed as he was led away to defend the Empire from rampaging, uncivilised raiders.

Arelenne remembered how she felt when the Romans came to her village. She had always known that the time would come when she, too, would have to serve the Empire. She had never questioned herself, her situation or her future. She had been taught to fight and to ride, as her father and grandfather for her mother had no sons, but her mother had gifted her with the knowledge of healing. She was confident in herself and in her abilities. So on that fateful day, with stoic acceptance, she fare welled her family and mounted her steed. Bors had been there too and despite a bit of a grumble, as was Bors' way, he too had left his family without a struggle. They were both old enough to know what repercussions would be meted out to those left behind if they had resisted. Similarly, when they rode into Lancelot's village, she remembered how the men stood defiant, ready to object to the Romans' demands. However, any potential trouble was avoided when the boy strode forth, declaring his desire to serve.

That season, when Arelenne was enlisted, she remembered riding to many villages and settlements. Some offered their sons without a fight and others argued the covenant forged centuries before. Arelenne recalled one settlement in particular that was not prepared to acquiesce to Roman demands.

When the Romans arrived at the settlement, the tribesmen, old and young, men and women, stood fast, ready to defend their sons and their way of life. Arelenne remembered the Roman Commander yelling at the villagers. He remembered how the officer reminded the villagers of their duty to the Empire and that their sons were obligated to serve the Empire because the Sarmatians had lost the war. His speech, of course, had no effect. So instead, he advanced towards a beautiful Sarmatian woman who stood proud with her young son beside her. The officer demanded she hand over her child. She refused. He attempted to drag the child away but she held her son tightly and proceeded to insult the Romans and their Empire. The officer was furious and it was obvious to all that she would pay a high price for her insolence. The Commander looked at the woman with disgust and coolly ordered his men to raise the settlement to the ground and kill all who resisted.

The insurrection was over before it had started. Dead and dying tribes' folk littered the area, men, women and children. The few surviving boys were ordered, at the point of the sword to leave with the Romans or face death. All the survivors, bar one, assembled and under armed guard, were placed in a cart. However, the young boy who had been at the center of the melee either didn't hear the ultimatum or simply ignored it. He lay on the ground, sobbing quietly, as he clutched the bloodied body of his dead mother. Arelenne remembered looking at the boy, thinking how sad it was that this little boy was now on his own in a very unfriendly world. It was at that moment, she also realized that the Roman officer, with sword drawn, was marching across the village common towards the grieving child and was obviously intent on slaying the boy where he laid. Arelenne, for reasons she never understood, leapt off her horse and dashed to the child wrenching him from his slain mother and standing between him and the advancing officer.

"He will ride with us Sir" she declared. "He will fulfill his obligations, I will see to it."

The Roman eyed her suspiciously but finally nodded his reluctant approval.

"See that he does or you both die" he declared, as he pointed his sword at the boy and the girl to emphasis his words.

Arelenne turned to the slightly elder child and stated"You must come now. You will die if you stay here. Come with me and I will look after you."

Arelenne didn't want to put the child in the cart with the other boys in case he tried to escape. However, she also knew that the boy was too small to ride all the way to their new post on his own. So accepting that there was no alternative, she decided to put the boy on her horse. That way she could ensure the boy was safe and that they both survived the journey.

"What is your name"

"Tristan" was the frightened response.

"Hello Tristan. I am Arelenne. How old are you"

"Twelve" replied the boy a little nervously.

"Twelve" Arelenne repeated, surprised that the child was so young compared to the other boys the Romans had taken, or at least the boys, she was still eleven but taller and more mature than him.

The boy nodded in confirmation.

"You can ride with me, all right" said Arelenne, as she gently took the child's hand and led him over to her horse.

Tristan nodded his agreement and was lifted up on to the large horse with difficulty by his companion.

Bors looked on in amazement as Arelenne settled the boy on the horse.

"Are you mad" he asked his friend. "You can't look after this boy. Life is going to be hard enough."

Despite his complaining, Bors rummaged in his bags and pulled out his spare cloak and some food.

"Here take this, it's going to get colder and wetter as we travel west. You will need this later" he said, handing over the brown cloak.

"It's yours" the boy pointed out.

"It's yours now. Keep it."

The boy nodded his thanks, as he fingered the coarse cloth.

"And this" said Bors as he held up the food"save this for later. We've a long way to ride and you will get hungry. Arelenne can look after it for you."

"What is it" asked the boy as he curiously eyed the round, red object in Bors' hand.

"It's an apple. Haven't you ever seen an apple before"

"No" breathed the boy solemnly.

"Where I come from we grow them on trees. They're good for you. Don't you grow food here" asked Bors as he looked around the devastated village.

"No. We move about."

"Hmpff" grunted Bors. _Something to be said for settling in one place, _hethought.

"Thank you" Tristan said as he tentatively took the fruit, examining it from every angle.

"Doesn't say much, does he" Bors said looking at Arelenne.

"We can't all be as wordy as you my friend"

Bors snorted and clapped a hand on young Tristan's shoulder saying…

"Arelenne's a good person. You listen to her all right? She'll guide you well."

Arelenne nodded her thanks to Bors, climbed on her horse and awaited the order to ride. She looked at the child behind her and pondered what it meant to have the responsibility of caring for the boy. She noticed the other boys from Tristan's tribe had dark face markings but Tristan didn't have any. Tattoos were a mark of manhood in Sarmatian tribes. Usually by twelve a boy had earned the right to wear the markings of his people. Arelenne's tribe tattooed their arms, others tribes their chest or back. It just depended on where you were from. She also noted that some of the boys wore braids in their hair but Tristan had none of those either. Why that was so, she wasn't sure but she was determined that this orphaned boy would learn the ways of his forefathers and become a member of his tribe, even though his home was destroyed and most of his people were dead.

When he is old enough I will arrange for his people to mark his face and braid his hair, Arelenne decided. But that's still a few years away yet. Plenty of other things for him to learn in the meantime like riding, sword fighting and maybe I can even teach him how to use a bow…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tiny voice asking…

"How old are you"

"I'm eleven" Arelenne replied with all the confidence she could muster.

"Oh" was the soft reply. The boy looked at her with awe. "Really"

"Yes really" replied Arelenne with a broad smile.

Dark, penetrating eyes seemed to pierce Arelenne's soul, as the child assessed his rescuer. Then the boy asked a question that would trouble Arelenne throughout the years to come…

"When I fall will anyone be there to catch me"

The question was so odd. No one assumed they would fall and most people trusted that if they did fall, then they wouldn't get hurt, not that someone would be there to catch them. But Tristan clearly expected an answer and obviously it meant something to him. So Arelenne replied with what she hoped was a response that would ease whatever fears the boy carried.

"I don't know what you mean _when_ you say when you fall? However, _if _you fall, I will catch you but you won't fall. You are safe here with me, as long as you hold on and don't let go."

Tristan considered the answer and with a nod of acceptance, lowered his head, and waited for them to ride. For her part, Arelenne had no intention of letting either of them fall but for safe measure, she stretched her hand back and placed the boy's arms around her waist and held them firmly, while she held the reins in the other hand.

As they turned away from the smoldering ruins of Tristan's village and on to an uncertain future, Arelenne was comforted by the thought that she would one day return to her home. However, when their service was completed where would Tristan go? He didn't have a home anymore.

Fifteen long years had passed. Tristan had grown to be a quiet, some would even say, sensitive man but there was nothing weak about him. Indeed, Tristan had become a remarkable scout, probably the best bowman they had ever seen, thanks to her training, and an extraordinary horseman. He was a fearsome warrior and a proud member of his tribe. When he returned from his first battle the other boys from his tribe had braided his hair to identify him as a warrior and tattooed his face with their peoples' markings. He had earned his tattoos and braids and wears them still with honor and pride. He is the last of those boys taken that day; the others have long since perished in one battle after another. His skills had earned him a place at Arthur's round table as a knight and today his determination and allegiance would be rewarded with freedom.

They say when you sleep, you look younger, Arelenne thought, as she gently fidgeted with Tristan's braids. I suppose that's true, because Tristan you certainly don't look like a man who has spent well over half your life fighting to stay alive.

Arelenne's thoughts then turned to the conversation she'd had earlier that day with Tristan about returning to Sarmatia…

_"Where will you go Tristan" she had asked._

_"Home" was the simple reply._

_ Where is your home Tristan? She had thought. Where does your heart lie? _

Arelenne smiled as she remembered saying that they could leave together and how Tristan had looked surprised by the suggestion. Yes, they would ride home together and…suddenly it all became so very clear. What a fool she had been.

You said you would go home Tristan but your people drift with the seasons. Those not killed that terrible day are long gone my friend. Where were you going to go?

She knew Tristan didn't have a home anymore; why had she assumed Tristan would return to a place he barely remembered or to a people that may have ceased to exist after fifteen years. What Arelenne had failed to realize, until now, was that Tristan had made his home wherever the knights were. Therefore, Britain had become his home but when they left, he wouldn't go with them because he didn't belong in their tribes. So while Arelenne and the other knights prepared for freedom and home, Tristan had prepared for abandonment. Such a realization saddened Arelenne to her core.

Oh my dearest love. How these last days must have weighed on your heart.

"You are not alone Tristan" she whispered. "You'll never be alone again. You will come home with me and you will be welcome amongst my people. You are a Sarmatian knight and my friend. You have earned your freedom and your place in any Sarmatian tribe. Bors, Vanora and the children will be there too. We will be a family, your family. Never alone again, I promise."

Tristan began to stir but Arelenne adjusted the old brown cloak over Tristan; the one Bors had given that first day in his village. Arelenne smiled as she tucked it around her friend. Throughout the years, whenever Tristan was injured, ill or even a little insecure he would want that cloak and today was no different. For all the furs he had to keep himself warm, it was the gift from a generous stranger that had comforted him the most down through the years. As Tristan stirred once more, Arelenne leant forward and pressed her lips to his brow.

"Shhhh" she cooed. "It's all right Tristan, I'm here."

"Arelenne" asked a sleep laden voice.

"Yes" she replied. "Lay still. You are injured, remember"

"I fell, didn't I"

"Yes but I was there to catch you" she stated, smiling at her friend and squeezing his hand.

Tristan's eyes remained closed but he smiled at the comment and squeezed Arelenne's hand in return.


	5. You have a choice

Arelenne's heart swelled with love as she looked at her friend. She leaned forward once more and placed her soft lips on Tristan's brow. She pulled back slightly and gazed once more at Tristan. The knight had opened his eyes and was staring at Arelenne with a mixture of apprehension and need.

With one hand still holding Tristan's, Arelenne brought her other up to lovingly caress his cheek with the back of her elegant fingers. Her fingers mapped the man's face, tenderly traveling from his cheek, across his brow and down his throat, before gently cupping his chin. She sat there smiling affectionately at her bewildered friend while she softly teased Tristan's lips with her thumb.

"Breathe Tristan. It's all right I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you."

Tristan raised a shaking hand and grabbed hold of Arelenne's top, tugging her forward. Arelenne was poised above him, their lips almost touching.

"Tristan? Tristan look at me" she implored, as her fingers fondled Tristan's braids.

Tristan tried to focus his lust, crazed eyes on Arelenne.

"Do you want this Tristan? I won't force you. You know that, don't you"

A hesitant nod answered her question.

"Can I kiss you again" he asked and Arelenne gave a small nod

With a little more confidence, Tristan pulled Arelenne to him. This kiss was hungry and intense as their lips met and passion flared. There was no competition for dominance; Tristan seemed content to follow Arelenne's lead.

"So beautiful" Tristan whispered breathlessly, as he placed feather light kisses along Arelenne's jaw and down her throat before returning to kiss her lips once more. As he kissed his lover passionately, he moved his hand teasingly down Tristan's body and begun to unlace his shirt and insisted Tristan look at her.

"Tristan, don't feel like you don't have a choice in this. I can wait for you."

Eyes still closed, head thrown back in desperation, and breathing labored, Tristan nod a consensual nod to Arelenne's words with a whimper and an imperceptible nod.

Tristan lay on the bed, exhausted and thoroughly satisfied. Arelenne gave one last kiss to Tristan's lips.

This time there was no hesitation, as Tristan eagerly let Arelenne kiss him deeply. He moaned into the kiss. Arelenne broke the kiss and rested her brow to Tristan's. There she stayed, savouring the moment and the closeness. Tristan lifted his hand to stroke Arelenne's face.

"What about you" he nervously asked.

"Later" she said, as she lifted her head to look at Tristan. "This was for you, just for you. When you are feeling stronger there are more things we will do together."

"Thank you…for this" Tristan stammered. "I…I've not…no one ever…"

"So I gathered. Did you like it"

"Yes." he sighed. "Very much so. Do you…" he asked, trying to find the right way to ask. "Do you like that too"

"Oh yes. I think it is a rare person who doesn't like to be teased" replied Arelenne with a broad smile.


	6. I never wanted just anyone,

Arelenne thought for a moment and then decided to ask Tristan about his previous lovers. She wasn't interested in the details but in the extent of Tristan's experience. She didn't want to frighten Tristan away by her own exuberance and she certainly wanted more than a warm body on a cold night. She wanted Tristan to embrace their love and to be an equal in bed as well as the battlefield.

"Tristan have you ever been with a woman before"

"No" Tristan shyly answered, as his eyes looked everywhere but at Arelenne.

"So you prefer men"

"No."

Arelenne was confused at first but then realized what Tristan _wasn't _saying. It was an overwhelming moment, as Arelenne tried to comprehend the fact that Tristan had never been with anyone before. That she had never known the satisfaction of joining with another, of giving and receiving pleasure, of loving and being loved. It was unbelievable that this man, with all his abilities and confidence, was so innocent in the ways lovemaking.

"Why have you not taken lovers? There are many who would wish to lie with you."

"I never wanted just anyone" Tristan confessed.

"Oh" was all could think of to say, as she tried to come to terms with what Tristan had just implied.

Finally, she understood what Tristan was trying to tell her. She looked at Tristan and, with eyes clouded with emotion, pressed their lips together and tenderly kissed her new lover. Tomorrow was the first day of the rest of their lives and she intended to make every day a new experience for both of them. Moreover, when they finally consummated their union, she would make it a most pleasurable and memorable occasion for both of them.

However, all that would have to wait; right now they needed to get up. Arelenne rose from the bed and with an outstretched hand to Tristan, said…

"Now, if you are up to it my friend, we should meet Arthur and see if Germanius has our discharge papers."


	7. Deception

(( Yes, I stole Lancelot's moment but I had to. Thanx for all your reviews!))

Arelenne and Tristan silently made their way to the great hall to meet the Bishop, Arthur and their fellow knights. The hour of their freedom was at hand and each of them contemplated their future as they walked the familiar path to the legendary round table. There was no need to talk. They had already shared much this day and now was the time for quiet reflection before the evening became one of rejoicing and partying.

Tristan thought back to earlier in the evening as they had lain together, talking and touching. Eventually time had forced them to rise and ready themselves for the night's other activities. Arelenne had tenderly rebound Tristan's aching ribs and now as he walked with his lover, Tristan sighed, as he felt the sharp pain in his chest, reminding him that the day had been one of highs and lows. For sure, Arelenne had warned him that rigorous movement would aggravate his injuries and she was right but Tristan could not regret what had transpired between them. He remembered how Arelenne had carefully helped him adjust his attire before they left the confines of Tristan's quarters. And he groaned aloud, as he recalled how, as they moved to the door, Arelenne had pulled Tristan to her for one more intense and passionate kiss that left Tristan feeling thoroughly debauched and hungry for more.

"Tristan, are you all right, you just groaned?" asked his concerned friend, as they walked along the path.

"My ribs are a bit tender, breathed in too deep I think," Tristan quickly replied. He truly hoped Arelenne wouldn't press him for more information as he wasn't sure he could keep quiet about what he was really thinking.

Luck was on Tristan's side as they continued on their way, once more in silence. Tristan's thoughts next strayed to the forthcoming meeting with the Bishop and their imminent discharge from Roman service. Tristan had had a long time to reflect on what being free meant to him and he had always associated freedom with loneliness. Now, despite Arelenne knowing how Tristan felt about her, Tristan assumed that Arelenne was totally unaware that he was still undecided about returning to his ancestral home. Indeed, Tristan still vividly remembered the day the Romans murdered his mother, slaughtered his people, burned his village and tore him away from his past. His life for the last fifteen years had been in Britain and free or not, unlike his fellow knights, he had nothing to return to in Sarmatia.

Even though the thought of sharing his life with Arelenne was very appealing, the day had left Tristan with mixed emotions. It wasn't that Tristan didn't believe Arelenne cared for him, he knew she did, her actions had shown that so clearly. It was that their passion seemed so impulsive after all the years of longing. As Tristan had grown he had developed such intense feelings for Arelenne, but he never knew how to approach the lovely knightess or even if Arelenne desired him that way. Now today he had it all and Arelenne said she wanted them to be together, but deep down Tristan feared it was nothing more than a goodwill gesture by a dear friend. It all seemed too perfect, too easy, for him to truly believe it would last. Tristan kept thinking if he hadn't fallen, then Arelenne wouldn't have known how he felt. If he hadn't dozed off in the bathhouse then Arelenne wouldn't have know what fantasies dwelt in Tristan's dreams. If he hadn't let Arelenne kiss him, he would never have known what it felt like to be desired by another. Too many ifs, he thought. His fall was the cause of it all, he reasoned. Obviously his inhibitions had been knocked out of him on the battlefield. Now, because he and Arelenne had engaged in some limited lovemaking, Arelenne was planning a future for them that Tristan wasn't convinced he wanted and yet wasn't sure he could say no to. So part of him was hoarding away experiences like today to stave off the isolation of the long lonely years ahead, while another part was ready to leave with Arelenne and the others and try to make a new life with people he trusted and loved.

As they neared the hall, Tristan began to feel uneasy. Despite his dilemma about going or staying he couldn't deny that he had enjoyed the afternoon's activities immensely. However, he really didn't want to share anything from this mixed up day with the other knights, and yet he feared the minute he entered the room they would know what had happened between him and Arelenne.

Of course, on entering the hall, all faces turned to them; their friends were obviously concerned for his well-being. Bors slapped Tristan on the back and asked, in his booming voice, whether he was feeling better. Tristan already skittish by the prospect of having to face questions about his afternoon blushed profusely, something he had rarely done even as a young boy. Without looking at the knight, he quickly nodded yes and fled past Bors to the relative sanctuary of his designated chair. Bors arched his eyebrows questioningly at Arelenne, as Tristan's behaviour seemed even more unusual than normal. Arelenne merely shrugged and took up her seat next to Bors.

Gawain turned to Tristan and saw the flush on his friend's face. "Tristan what's wrong?" he asked, fearing the man had a fever.

Tristan, in an effort to minimize discussion, merely mumbled, "I fell."

Oh not again, thought Gawain. Looking past Tristan to Arelenne, Gawain asked, "I thought we had got past this earlier?"

Tristan realized his answer would only cause further questions so he swiftly explained, "Sorry I…," he stammered. "I am a little injured but I will heal. Thank you my friend"

"Oh good. You just looked very flushed and I feared Arelenne had worked you too hard this afternoon instead of having you asleep."

Tristan blushed further, if that was at all possible. Gawain looked on in dismay, as Tristan stared at him, flustered, open-mouthed and dumbstruck by such a simple expression of concern.

Lancelot and Galahad watched Tristan stumble through the disjointed conversations and smiled knowingly at each other. Yes, there was more to Tristan's red face than he was admitting and they both knew it. "Later," mouthed Lancelot and Galahad nodded his agreement. Both men hoped that by the end of the night they would discover what was causing Tristan to be so off center.

For Tristan salvation came, or so he thought, when Arthur entered the room. Arthur warmly welcomed them all as he strode to his seat and on seeing his red faced scout asked innocently, "Tristan are you all right, you look flushed?"

"Yes thank you, Arthur," Tristan quietly replied, as he stared at the table and not at his leader. Desperate to deflect any further attention, he added, "I slept then Arelenne had me."

"Arelenne!" Arthur roared, glaring at the blonde girl staring at the wall.

The other knights by now appreciated that Tristan was somewhat confused, due to his sore head and pain remedies, but Arthur's indignation provided such wonderful entertainment for them all. All, of course, except for Tristan, who was now wishing Arelenne, had just left him asleep.

Tristan frantically tried to diffuse the situation by explaining to Arthur what he really meant, but his voice was barely heard as Arthur harangued Arelenne about her duty to the infirmed and not taking advantage of sleeping friends.

"No. No Arthur," Tristan pleaded, "I meant she helped me. I slept and then she helped me…"

"Arelenne, he was injured for mercy sake man. Couldn't you have waited?" Arthur indignantly asked.

Without looking at Tristan, who was by now completely embarrassed by the entire conversation, Arelenne glared at Arthur and snappily responded to his accusations.

"Arthur, Tristan is a little confused due to his head coming in contact with the hard ground at a fast pace. If you would just listen to the man, he explained, I helped him after he woke up. He has some sore ribs and other minor hurts and a persistent headache, not helped by your shouting, but he will recover. Tristan will tell you himself, he feels better now than he did when we first arrived back at the fort. Come on Arthur, you know what a hit to the head can do. It's just going to take a few days for his thoughts to become clear again, that's all!"

Arthur sighed knowing Arelenne was right but he just felt there was something going on and it obviously troubled Tristan. Tristan was always in control and had had plenty of knocks to the head over the years and yet Arthur had never seen him so self-conscious and unnerved.

Any further discussion was set aside, as Bishop Germanius swept into the room and stared in astonishment at the round table. He quickly hid his distaste at such a radical expression of equality and formally greeted Arthur and the knights. Once seated, he directed his aide, Horton, to share out the fine wine from Rome to the assembled group. Then, in a show of faith, he revealed that he did have their discharge papers but would not hand them out immediately, much to the knight's disappointment. The Bishop then proceeded to solemnly relate the news that the Romans were leaving Britain to the Woads and that a Saxon army had landed to the north and was surging southward.

Such information cut to the core of every knight in the room. They had fought for Rome to maintain this furthest outpost of the Empire and in one brief statement it was all deemed too hard. The Romans no longer saw Britain as viable? How many knights had lost their lives for a cause now deemed unnecessary? The knights rose to their feet as one and demanded an explanation for so many wasted lives and years. Arthur quietened the knights but implored the Bishop to provide some justification for what they had all endured and were now forfeiting in the name of the mighty Roman Empire. However, the Bishop merely announced that he would refrain from releasing the knights until after he had spoken to Arthur alone. Roman to Roman, or so he said.

Arelenne looked at Arthur, raised her goblet and said coolly, "Come. Let's leave Roman business to Romans."

Bors was incensed and was prepared to stand his ground but Dagonet gripped his shoulder saying, "Let it go, Bors."

Accepting his friend's wisdom, Bors stalked from the round table and headed to the tavern. The other knights followed him out, all except for Tristan, who seemed dazed by the turn of events. Arelenne saw that the younger man seemed to be mulling over the situation, and so pulled him by the arm and gently guided him from the room explaining that it would all be resolved soon to everyone's satisfaction.

By the time Arelenne and Tristan reached the tavern, the mood of the knights had lightened considerably. As a group, they briefly discussed what had just happened and determined that the Romans couldn't possibly withhold their discharge as it would be dishonorable to do so and despite other shortcomings the Romans were big on honor. So, armed with that thought, they decided to begin their freedom festivities early.

Tristan followed Gawain and Galahad over to a group of Roman soldiers and village women who were gathered around a nearby table. The three knights amused themselves by taking turns at tossing their knives at a wooden pillar. With every throw, laughter and cheers erupted from the group, as each knight bettered the other. Tristan threw one final time and his knife pierced the end of Galahad's knife.

"Tristan!" shouted Galahad.

"How do you do that?" Gawain asked, amazed at the accuracy of the throw.

Tristan shrugged, took a bite of the apple in his hand and simply explained, "I aim for the middle."

Arelenne watched the scene with pride. In spite of his injuries Tristan seemed to be relaxed. His aim was still accurate and he genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself. Arelenne smiled, as she remembered how Tristan had responded to her touch earlier that day. Tristan was a very responsive lover and Arelenne couldn't wait to continue their lovemaking. Wrapped up in her private thoughts, Arelenne failed to notice that Bors had come to sit with her. Bors followed Arelenne's line of sight and smiled knowingly as he saw that Arelenne was once again staring at Tristan. However, he also realized the look on Arelenne's face was different to usual, this look was hungry. And then it dawned on him.

"You had him!" Bors stated.

Arelenne jolted as she realized she wasn't alone and sighed, now aware that her feelings were obviously on display.

"Not fully," she replied quietly.

"Ah I see you want more and he doesn't?" Bors intoned perceptively.

Arelenne debated whether or not to reveal Tristan's secret and replied, "No he wants it but…,"

"…but he's never been with woman." Bors added.

"No he's never been with anyone," Arelenne whispered conspiratorially.

At this declaration Bors spewed wine in all directions.

"Why not?" Bors spluttered, as he wiped the back of his hand across his face trying to mop up the wine that had run down his chin. "How could he get to his age and not do it? For that matter, how did we not know he hadn't done it?"

"Keep your voice down," Arelenne implored. What could she say? She had watched Tristan for years and she didn't know, so how could the others know? Tristan was simply too good at hiding his feelings and his fears.

Bors was still stunned and said, "I thought we taught him things, you know," said Bors as he gesticulated vaguely with his hand in the air. "Didn't we explain urges and needs and how to deal with them?"

"We did, but it seems he dealt with those urges and needs privately because he didn't want just anyone, he wanted me," Arelenne explained through gritted teeth, as she watched Tristan getting another drink from the bar.

"What? Didn't I tell you, you couldn't look after that child?"

"You did but if memory serves me correctly, I wasn't the one who gave him a cloak or food or told him to listen to me because I would look after him.," Arelenne answered with a wry smile at the memory of their young friend, frightened, wide-eyed and clutching the cloak to him and handing an apple to Arelenne for safekeeping. "Nor was I the one to teach him how to use a bow," she added.

"Oi, you asked me to teach him."

"Yes, basic instruction, but look at him with a bow now, he's you."

"He's better than me." grumbled Bors affectionately.

"Admit it Arelenne you have fancied that lad for a while now?" stated Bors. "Why didn't you just take him years ago, I'm sure he wouldn't have said no."

Arelenne thought about the question carefully and finally explained, "At first he was like a younger brother, someone to teach and guide and care for, but later as he grew into a young man, well it all became something more. One day I just realized he could be a lover. I never acted on it because he never showed any sign of being interested. I never found out until today that he felt the same way about me. If he hadn't fallen and I hadn't caught him, I daresay he would have kept his secret"

"Hmmmph. Well at least we're leaving here so you can work on it, on him. Now is the time for pleasure old friend and you deserve all you can get and so does he. Stupid lad."

Bors lifted his tankard in a friendly salute to his friend but stopped short as he saw the look of sadness that passed over Arelenne's face.

"All right what's your problem? He wants you, you want him and you're both free. What can be so wrong to spoil such a special night and a happy future?"

"He never planned to leave here."

"What? Stay here? Without us? Why?"

Arelenne tried to explain as best as he could. "We are Sarmatians. We come from Sarmatia but when we spoke of returning home to Sarmatia, he knew we were referring to i our /i family, i our /i tribe but he has no family, no tribe, and no home. So he decided to stay here. Alone.'

"Well, we have all thought of staying at one time or another," Bors quietly admitted.

"I know but we have all talked about home too. Some of us may still have family at home. I want to find out and now I have the choice to do so, being a free man."

"Bloody long way to go for a visit," stressed Bors.

"You're missing the point Bors. It's not about whether he leaves or not, it's about how he sees himself. Whether we leave or stay is irrelevant. It's about him being part of our plans, part of our future. He thinks we will abandon him when we leave, but he needs to see that if he stays he's abandoning us. He needs to understand that if he leaves with us he will be welcome in our tribe or any Sarmatian tribe. He's earned that right by his service to Rome and we owe him a home because he is a Sarmatian warrior just like us."

"Tall order my friend. One, he's had plenty of time to think about his future and two, not all tribes accept other tribesman easily."

"Well I plan to convince him to stay with us…"

"With you, you mean!"

"All right I plan to convince him to stay with me and to leave with me when I head home. Come on Bors, if we take him home with Vanora and the children our people will accept all of them. Especially when people hear the tales of his valiant deeds as a knight of the round table."

"Maybe. Somehow I think it will be harder to convince him that he is valued rather than having to convince our people," Bors mused.

"Well we'll both have to work on him and see if we can knock some sense into that tattooed head of his," Arelenne replied.

They both watched Tristan, as he threw his knife again and shared a drink with his friends, and contemplated how to convince the stubborn man that staying with them regardless of where they ended up was the right thing to do.

"Is it safe letting him drink and play with knives with that knock to the head?" Bors asked as he watched Tristan sway slightly.

"Probably not but let him have some fun, after all he hasn't hurt himself or anyone else yet," Arelenne laughed, feeling a little more confident about the future having shared her fears with Bors.

Over the raucous laughter someone asked Vanora to sing. The tavern quietened as she sang a beautiful ballad about returning to a distant home. The knights listened and looked at each other, each knowing how the others felt. As she finished singing, Jols announced that Arthur had arrived.

Arthur would rather have faced an army of rampaging Saxons or attacking Woads than face his men at this moment. The knights at first welcomed him but as he stood there, unsmiling, a chill ran down the spine of each of the six knights.

"Above the wall, there lies a Roman family in need of rescue. They are trapped by Saxons," Arthur explained. "Our orders are to secure their safety."

He added that before the knights could be discharged, they had to complete this last mission, north of the wall and through Woad territory. Their mood turned angry and accusations of betrayal were hurled at their leader.

"Let the Romans take care of their own," shouted Bors.

"Our duty to Rome, if it was ever a duty, is done," spat Galahad. "Our pact with Rome is done."

"Every knight here has laid his life on the line for you," declared Bors as he pointed at Arthur. "For you. And instead of freedom, you want more blood? Our blood? You think more of Roman blood than you do ours?" he added.

Arthur wearily stated, "Bors, these are our orders. We leave at first light and when we return, your freedom will be waiting for you. A freedom we can embrace with…"

"I'm a free man! I will choose my own fate!" screamed an incensed Bors.

"Yeah yeah, we're all going to die someday. If it's death by a Saxon hand that frightens you, stay home," said Tristan to no-one in particular.

Galahad moved towards the scout shouting, "Well if you're so eager to die, you can die right here!"

Arelenne intervened, demanding the knights settle down before the situation degenerated into an all out brawl. Galahad continued to glare at Tristan but refrained from further attempts to attack the man. Arelenne, for her part stared at Arthur in disbelief, letting her leader and closest friend know the depths of her anger and betrayal at the turn of events.

Above the shouting Arelenne announced, "The Romans have broken their word. We have the word of Arthur. That is good enough. I'll prepare." As she started to leave Arelenne turned to Tristan saying, "When you have prepared for tomorrow come to my quarters so I can check your injuries." Without waiting for a reply, she then turned to Bors asking, "Bors, you coming?"

"Of course I'm coming! Can't let you go on your own; you'll all get killed!" announced the exasperated knight.

As Tristan left the tavern he heard Arthur ask Gawain whether he would accompany them on the mission and was relieved to hear that not only would Gawain be there but Galahad also. Lancelot hadn't committed himself but Tristan was certain if everyone else was going, Lancelot would be there too. Comforted by the thought that they would face this last mission together, Tristan headed to his quarters to prepare for the risky trip.

As he prepared, concerns for the mission were pushed aside as Tristan's thoughts strayed to his day with Arelenne. The more he thought about what they had done, the harder he became. He shook his head in dismay as he remembered how needy he must have sounded as he begged Arelenne to help him. How wanton he was when he screamed at the top of his voice as he came. In fact he didn't even utter a sound when Arelenne kissed him saying, "Taste yourself." He moaned now, at that memory and rubbed his hand over his rigid cloth covered cock.

Tristan sat on his bed and thought about his situation, especially the fact that he had told Arelenne he was a virgin. Well, yes he was a virgin by some people's standards, but he was reasonably certain that virginity was simply a state of mind, or at the very least a state of undress with someone who wants you that way. After all, he thought about doing it often. Indeed, he woke every day with a hard cock and wasted no time in dealing with his morning stiffness. So, he reasoned, he wasn't a virgin because he took himself in hand at every opportunity. A few years back a Roman soldier had led him to the stable and began touching him, but the man had to go on duty and left Tristan feeling hard and frustrated. However, that brief encounter had given him some experience he reasoned, enough to move him from virgin status to experienced partner. Another time, he had tried to do it with a girl, but other than a few roving hands they hadn't got much further because she was too drunk and fell asleep. Still, he had wanted to do it, and was going to do it, but it just didn't happen. So from his perspective wanting it and almost doing it meant that really he wasn't a virgin. Virgins know nothing; he knew lots of things about what he was supposed to do. And yet here he was telling his friend that he was a virgin. What a fool he was. Virgin indeed!

Tristan finished his preparations for the mission and then made his way to Arelenne's quarters. He knew what he had to do. He knocked on the door and entered when Arelenne called him. Standing in the centre of the room he looked at Arelenne and with fierce determination declared, "I am _not_ a virgin!"

Arthur often sought solitude in the stable. There he could attend to his horse and think without interruption or argument. There in the quiet, surrounded by the heady scent of leather, he would work off pent up emotions as he washed down his horse and maintained his tack. There he would sit on a hay bale and polish emblems and stirrups, oil the leather of the saddle, and ensure everything worked perfectly from bridle to bit. There he felt close to God and there he would pray when the days had been hard and a sleepless night awaited him.

"O merciful God, I have such need of Your mercy now. Not for myself, but for my knights, for this is truly their hour of need. Deliver them from their trials ahead and I will pay You a thousand fold with any sacrifice You ask of me. And if in Your wisdom, You should determine that sacrifice must be my life for theirs; so that they can once again taste the freedom that is so long been denied to them, I will gladly make that covenant. My death will have a purpose. I ask no more than that."

"Why do you always talk to God and not to me? " Arelenne asked, coming from the darkened corner of the stable. "Pray to whomever you pray that we don't cross the Saxons. "My faith is what protects me, Lady Arelenne. Why do you challenge this?" he snapped "I don't like anything that puts a man on his knees." She replied, leaning on a wooded pillar

"No man fears to kneel before the God he trusts. Without faith, without belief in something, what are we?" Arthur replied, walking closer.

"To try and get past the Woads in the north is insanity!" Arelenne replied heatedly"Them, we've fought before."

"Not north of the Wall!" Arelenne replied then paused "How many Saxons? Hmm? How many?"Arelenne leaned against the saddle rack and looked Arthur straight in his dark blue eyes "Tell me. Do you believe in this mission?" she asked

"These people need our help. It is out duty to bring-" Arthur began but Arelenne cut him off."I don't care about your charge. And I don't give a **damn** about Romans, Britain, or this island. If you desire to spend eternity in this place, Arthur, then so be it. But **suicide** cannot be chosen for another-!" "AND YET YOU CHOOSE DEATH FOR THIS FAMILY!""NO, I CHOOSE **LIFE** AND **FREEDOM** FOR MYSELF AND THE MEN!" 

Arelenne sat down on a bench in front of her Clydesdale, Xavier's, stall. She put her head in her hands and let out a long sigh. Arthur came and sat beside her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders."How many times in battle have we snatched victory from the jaws of defeat? Outnumbered, outflanked, but still we triumph? With you at my side, we can do so again.  
Lancelot, we are knights. What other purpose do we serve if not for such a cause?"

Arelenne looked up and shook her head "Arthur, you fight for a world that will never exist. Never. There will always be a battlefield."

Arelenne's face was suddenly so close to Arthur's, Arthur could see every flick of grey in her eyes, every eyelash above her bright eyes. "I will die in battle. Of that I'm certain. Now hopefully, a battle of my choosing. But, if it be this one, grant me a favor: don't bury me in our sad little cemetery. Burn me. Burn me, and cast my ashes to a strong east wind."

Arthur let out a heavy sigh "Arelenne," he whispered and pressed his lips against hers, the kiss soft and innocent. Arelenne pulled away with a slight smile and left.


End file.
